Life imitates art –or– I like insects better than you #20 –or– Dead-eye fly

Saturday, 16 December 2006

I’ve always been a phenomenal shot with rifles and an abysmal failure with pistols; unable to get regular groupings at any range on any day with any pistol and just unable to miss with rifles. It’s always bothered me that one came so easily and the other was impossible.

I have a cop character in something I’ve been trying to write for a decade now. He is, to observers, a supernaturally good shot. This is a note for a scene on a police firing range where one cop brings in a decent target while Klein watches–

“Not bad, loser,” says Klein.

“What the fuck? See you do better,” says the cop with the nice grouping.

[Klein retracts the target back and it’s a 1" grouping for all 13 shots; several went through the same holes.]

“Holy fuck,” says the other cop.

“I watched you. Your problem is you let yourself squeeze the grip when you squeeze the trigger. Separate your finger from your hand and you’ll be getting better groupings.”

“Hey, uh. Thanks a lot man.”

“No problem. Plus, your hand is too big for a P229. Get something like a USP 45 and you’ll shoot better without even trying.”

No stegosaurs were harmed in this demonstration.

I got an air-soft pistol awhile ago because it was cheap and I needed something to make me get out of my chair now and then which I forget to do for hours at a time when I have the time. I was having trouble with it and even though it does have a loose barrel in the “slide” it’s not enough to make up for the bad shots. I gave Klein’s advice a chance and though I hadn’t realized he was giving it to me, I suppose he was. My shooting improved instantly.

Another rat or squirrel or something died in the roof a couple weeks ago. Not the first time, obviously. The smell was gone in a couple days and while I do appreciate the role maggots play and thank them for their help I don’t put house flies on the list of animals which command any care at all and having 40 appear out of nowhere generates instant animosity.

I blame the house spiders for what you are about to see. They get free range of the house and if they had just taken charge, I wouldn’t have been driven to murder.

From 13 feet in bad light. First shot.

Took that poor sucker’s head right off. Wanted to say “clean off” but that expression just lost some luster. Put a dent in the window frame too so won’t be doing this again. Sorry about the gore. I considered black and white but I didn’t wanna come off as a Spielberg wannabe; sort of a recursive social disorder.

And just to prevent: How would you like it!? The first thing I shot with the pistol was me. I needed to know how seriously to treat it. [The answer as it turns out is, “Pretty seriously.”] It was also “notes” for a piece you might get in here one of these days. …mmmmmmm Ashley’s piece.

If you feel like you gotta do it anyway, I’ll remind you a study that made the news today shows vegans’ IQ to be 5 points lower than the already too-low national average and 10 points lower than eggs-and-milk vegetarians.

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A Merchant, driving his Ass homeward from the seashore with a
heavy load of salt, came to a river crossed by a shallow ford.
They had crossed this river many times before without accident,
but this time the Ass slipped and fell when halfway over. And
when the Merchant at last got him to his feet, much of the salt
had melted away. Delighted to find how much lighter his burden
had become, the Ass finished the journey very gayly.

Next day the Merchant went for another load of salt. On the way
home the Ass, remembering what had happened at the ford,
purposely let himself fall into the water, and again got rid of
most of his burden.

The angry Merchant immediately turned about and drove the Ass
back to the seashore, where he loaded him with two great baskets
of sponges. At the ford the Ass again tumbled over; but when he
had scrambled to his feet, it was a very disconsolate Ass that
dragged himself homeward under a load ten times heavier than
before.